Confessions of the Girl
by DallaLuna
Summary: One shot. Belated companion piece to Reflections of the Enchantress. Beauty's POV. "I had a dream tonight. I was in a castle. I thought it was the Beast's castle at first, for everything looked so familiar. But it couldn't have been." R&R.


**Summary: **One shot. Belated companion piece to _Reflections of the Enchantress_. Beauty's POV. "I had a dream tonight. I was in a castle. I thought it was the Beast's castle at first..." R&R.

**A/N:** Yeah. More BatB. I guess I'm just incapable of broadening my horizons. This is not very... eh, structured, I suppose you could say, but that's just the nature of her thoughts. Some of this might seem vaguely familiar (I use the same subject matter so often...) but I hope there is some new appeal. Probably not. Still, I kinda like it. Not as much as I like "Reflections of the Enchantress", which despite being grammatically messy (I should tidy it up) seems to be the pinnacle of my BatB writing career.

But yeah. It's not much of a companion piece, the only ties being the beast's name and a brief cameo by Aurelie. Characterizing Gabrielle wasn't as much fun as characterizing Aurelie, but I think there's something nice about a protagonist the reader can relate to. Antagonists are usually more fun, though. :-p

LOL, if I haven't dissuaded you from reading, leave a review or something.

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**CONFESSIONS of the GIRL**

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I had a dream tonight.

I was in a castle. I thought it was the Beast's castle at first, for everything looked so familiar. But it couldn't have been.

There were people there. Lots of them. Everywhere I turned there were nobles: men in jewel-encrusted doublets and women in silken gowns cut so low they'd make a soul blush. But it wasn't only the people that made it apparent this couldn't be the place I stayed for so long.

You see, his palace has a certain solemn tenderness about it. In a way, it reminds me of him. At first it is cold and horrible, if only because it is not home. It's not what you know. It takes some time and some bravery on your part, but you let yourself try to understand it. It is always mysterious and always aloof, but it embraces you. It understands that you made an effort, and it opens itself up to you, a little more each day. It knows that you didn't have to try, but you _did_, and that means everything.

I don't plan on telling Marie my dream, but I know if I did she'd insist that structures aren't people. A castle can't be solemn or warm, she'd tell me matter-of-factly. Furthermore, the pedant-in-training would say, you're really losing it if you're likening a building to a beast.

She thinks now that she's fourteen she knows everything. She _doesn't_. She's an ignorant pest, is what she is. I think I'm beginning to understand how Alison used to feel whenever she talked to me. Younger sisters—precocious ones especially—are absolute pains.

I digress. It was my dream I meant to talk about in the first place, and here I am talking about foolish little Marie.

I was talking about the palace, wasn't I? Well, the palace in my dream was different from his palace. It was stifling. It might've been the throngs of courtiers crowding every room, but I think it was something else. I think it was the whispering, and the way that their gazes glided guardedly over anyone who passed. And even though I didn't understand what was making them all so ill at ease, I began to feel just as reticent as they did—as reticent as they tried to appear they weren't. I wanted very much to run away.

But I couldn't. There was nowhere to go. I wandered from room to room, and a queer feeling started welling up inside me. I began hoping that I'd stumble across the Beast. Together, I thought, he and I might find a way out of that terrible place.

I feel bad about that now. I wish it'd been Father I thought of. Maybe even Marie. You think she'd like that? I bet she'd say how silly I am, when really she'd be pleased.

There I go blathering again. I don't suppose you mind, though. I bet Marie doesn't even visit you anymore. That's a real shame. Father never once did, and now I'm sure Marie doesn't either. Well, I don't care if they think it's pointless or stupid. I'll always talk to you, no matter what.

But my dream. I want to finish telling you about it.

I didn't find the Beast. I didn't find Papa or Marie, either. I continued walking through all those dimly familiar rooms, and everywhere I went the people glared at me and then turned their eyes away. Finally I reached a room that looked very much like my room in Beast's castle looked.

I thought that in there I might be alone, so I opened the door.

There were a man and a woman in it. She was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. Her hair was golden; _truly_ golden, the way they describe it in fairy tales. He was the handsomest man I'd ever seen. I thought for a moment that I knew him, but now I cannot imagine who I thought him to be. There was something in those light brown eyes that seemed familiar, but—Well, it'd sound stupid if I said it.

Their faces were very close. The woman was smiling, and her slender fingers were touching the side of his face and winding around locks of his dark hair. I thought they were going to kiss, so I turned to leave. I felt horribly ill.

But the woman spoke before I reached the door. Her tone was spitefully laughing. "You cannot leave. It's much too late for that, my dear."

I faced them again though I didn't want to. I was trembling something awful.

The man looked at me, then, right in the eyes. Something in that look made me feel so low I can hardly describe it. If it makes any sense—which it won't, I'm sure—I felt disappointed in him. Silly, huh? I didn't even know who he was, but I felt as if he'd let me down worse than anyone had in all my life.

"This isn't who you're supposed to be," I said to him.

He ignored me. There was an awful sneer on his face when he demanded, "What do you think you're doing here?"

I shook my head. I did not know why I was there, but I wanted so very badly for the Beast to come. He did not.

"Oh dear!" the woman tittered. "It looks as if she's going to cry."

When they started to laugh at me, I could bear it no longer. I did cry. I cried for what felt like hours. I kept saying something; the same phrase as before, I think. _This isn't who you're supposed to be._

When I finally stopped, the man spoke.

"Gabrielle," he said firmly, his tone neither unkind nor warm. "This is the only man I shall ever be. I will never be a good man. I will never _be_ again."

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, clasping my hands together wretchedly.

It wasn't that I pitied him. I did, mind you, but it was more than that. I felt that I was to blame. I _knew_ I was to blame. I could tell by the way he looked at me that I was the only hope he'd had, and I'd failed him.

"It's much too late for all that, darling girl," the woman snapped. She turned to face him, a disgusted look on her face. "What a fool you were, Armel. What a royal fool."

He was not listening. He stared ahead blankly. "The life we might've had; you and I. Gabrielle, can you imagine the way it might've been?"

I wanted to fly to him and embrace him, but my feet were leaden and I could not move. I felt so very tired all of a sudden. A hazy, languid feeling overpowered me, and there was nothing I could do.

"I'm sorry. How can I change things?" I begged of him. I wanted to look at him, but my eyelids had grown so heavy that I could not open my eyes.

I reached out for him blindly. "I'll do anything. Don't despair! I'll help you!"

"There's nothing to be done now," the woman told me. "We all must reap what we have sown. He is slipping. You've made your choice. It is too late for him now."

Then the stifling feeling disappeared. There was no feeling at all. The palace was just a structure; just stones and mortar, the way Marie would say it is.

When I was finally able to open my eyes, it was over. I was awake, and I was crying.

It was the strangest dream I've ever had. And I've never woken up from a dream in tears before, either.

Heavens, I hope you don't think I'm making this up. I've never remembered dreams the way I remember this one, and I wouldn't blame you if you thought I was lying. But you don't think that.

You don't, do you, Mama?

That's the problem with talking to gravestones. They don't answer.

Still, you're the only one I could tell. I don't feel like I can talk to Papa and Marie anymore. They don't know me as I am now, and I'm afraid to let them. I feel as if the only people I can talk to are those who aren't near me.

The sky is lightening, and soon Papa and Marie will wake and realize I'm gone. I guess the real reason I came here was to ask you something.

Do you think what I've done is a sin?

Never mind. You wouldn't. It was a stupid question. It wasn't fair for him to ask me to stay forever. The Beast was good to me, yes, but I didn't deserve to be kept from the entire world for all my life. Everyone says so.

Papa and Marie say so. I don't know, though. I don't know.

Mama? If I told you that the man in my dream had the Beast's eyes, what would you say?

I know it was just a dream, and chances are it means nothing at all. I know I should go home and forget all about it.

The thing is, I _can't_.

You see, I think I've done something worse than just abandoning him. I think I've broken his heart. Mama, I think he's dying and it's my fault.

Something the woman said, or the way the man looked at me… I feel as if it's all as certain as one of those scientific theories Marie fancies so much. I've never felt this assured about anything, and yet I don't want to believe it.

The sun is starting to rise. I can't go back home without knowing what I'm going to do.

Help me.

Mama? _Please?_

God! What use is a dead mother? What am I supposed to do if no one will help me? How am I supposed to know? _How_?

…

Sunrise. Daylight blazes over the horizon. The sky is alight with vibrant shades of indigo, magenta, and peach, each blending seamlessly into the next. The soft blue light that bathed the sleepy world before is gone; replaced with a warm orangeish hue. Just like that, the world seems a less desolate place.

Nothing has changed, though. Its beauty is just one of God's tricks to make each day seem like it holds the promise of something better. It works, as silly as it is. I feel better.

I know now what I'm going to do, Mama. I didn't really need you at all. I knew all along what it was I wanted, but I was hoping for Divine affirmation, or your affirmation, or any affirmation at all. A sign.

The sunrise was not a sign. It was inevitable. But so is my return to him. It is inevitable. And just as night must precede the dawn, so agony and indecision had to precede my return. (Suffering has made me so profound, hasn't it?)

Nothing is resolved, though, Mama. I don't know how I will find him. I don't know what I will do if I find him dead. I don't know if I'll be able to bear it.

Goodbye, Mama. Would you… Could you give him strength? Could you help him hold on 'til I reach him?

I love you. And—And him. Please give him my love. Maybe it will be enough.

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End file.
